Filthy Angel
by 0ri
Summary: I do everything I can… No, I’ve done everything I can for you. So… why am I still yearning for your touch..? [One sided YukixTohma. Pretty tragic.]


Well, it's really late right now and I had some inspiration to write some thing, so here I am, 4:30am, in the middle of the fucking night… ahahaha… without hot chocolate to keep my mind stable. twitching oh well… at least I can hear the rain patting outside... that's always good, right?

I don't own anything… I wouldn't be putting this on fanfiction if I did… I'd be friggin making it into a manga…

Please review and tell me what you think of this story once you're done reading. I'd very much appreciate it. D

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**FILTHY ANGEL**

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Eiri-san…

I've watched you all this time. From the moment I met you up until this point, always… I'm your protector, you see; your little guardian in a jar; perfectly applicable for you to open at any time you wish. I've always tried be here for you, you know, but you fail to realize it anymore; how my eyes wander after you as you pass, as you glare, frown, curse, sleep—anything you do, I've been here, just watching and waiting under your command.

If it would help your mental illness to hit me then, hell with it, I'd let you beat the living crap out of me; in fact I'd probably enjoy it, just to feel the brush of your fingers on my skin, just to hear the sound of your voice as you scolded me and snapped; just to see that you're alive again, that you can feel, and you're capable of experiencing emotions instead of this horrible façade you've put up. You say you don't care, you act like you don't, you do nothing to change what you've become and you live in misery—locked in your apartment for days on end, drinking and smoking yourself to illness and writing countless books with hidden meanings that mumble whispers of your hatred towards the world and it's inhabitants; you apologize some times too, in between the lines, for the death you plagued upon the one you loved, as you lose yourself in a twisted hunger of depression and literature. No one can see this but I; because I know you better then anyone else on this earth, you know I do, too, and my knowledge of your life used to be of your concern, but you stopped caring… years ago.

Then he came along, that annoying, stupid, talent-less brat. He looked at you once, and without a second thought, fell head over heels for you. He pushed his way into your life and wouldn't let you get away, even though I know you tried to escape for a time, you eventually half-gave up. He went as far as moving into your apartment, just showed up one day and asked for you to take him in—I'm sure you said no, and I can see him, with all of his obnoxious inconsiderate personality, not thinking once of your sake-just-_begging_ for you to take him. As long as he could see you and touch you, even pretended to love you, I know in my heart Shuichi just didn't –give- a damn what happened to you. And the most painful thing of this all is that… you let him! You let him into your life when you wouldn't me in, the person who knows the most about you, the person who was there for you in New York, the person who comforted you as a teenager when you had nightmares, the person who fed you medicine when you were sick, the person you let all your emotions pour into. ME! I was the person who helped you, lied to the media, made it so you could escape charges on the death of Kitizawa. I was the one who paid for your fee back to Japan after the incident and let you live in my apartment instead of with that ignorant family of yours. I was the one who pushed you into going to college to exploit your talent in writing; when you were falling apart, a step away from a mental institution and a blink from suicide. I was the one who referred your work to people, so your career could expand faster that way. At the time you didn't care, the life was gone in you, and all you wanted were your cigarettes to make it easier for your alcohol colored throat to swell and for the blood to start spurting from your lips; there were nights you wouldn't come home, and I would never sleep, recklessly searching, forbidding myself any rest until I heard good word of your health or saw it myself. Quite often though, you not coming home resulted in some thing terrible.

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I remember it all.

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I was there for you when Shindo wasn't, when no one else was… Not even your father cared for your existence then. I watched you fall apart and did my best to pick up the pieces, and I know I'm not done gluing you back together yet…

They're are scattered over my floors, and when I gather them up they cut me, and when the blood rushes out from under my skin and stains my body, it won't come off no matter how many times I run soap over it. I know I deserve it too, because I'm the one that dropped your porcelain persona, shards of you splattering everywhere; pricking my skin. It's all over the covers of my bed, hanging on the walls, sitting across the floors, resting even in the rain that falls. I still try to fix you, desperately, even though it makes me bleed everywhere, and this red stains my mind and my composure, it eats away my expensive mask like acid; the one I put up for everyone _except _you, Eiri-san.

I do everything I can…

No, I've done everything I can for you.

So… why am I still yearning for your touch?

Where did I go wrong when I tried to help you? Where did Shuichi _not_ go wrong? I'm just as loyal as he is; more so, in fact, but I don't need to jump all over you like some maniac to show it. You prefer tranquility over insanity, so why is it that you chose him over me? God, I wish I could ask you all this but then you'd know my real reasoning for caring about you, and you'd just push me further away and bring Shuichi closer. But, I guess you've already begun to do that now.

If I asked you these questions; you'd ignore them and leave me in the rain to figure out the answers on my own; where I'd just freeze to death, knocking endlessly for you to open your locked door, until the bones in my hands bruised and numbed. I haven't cried in a very long time—though I would surely do so then.

I'm so sick of trying to earn your affection; or anything _at all_. I just wish you would say hi to me, just call me once to talk, just speak of me as your brother—a title I went all the way to get through marrying that moron sister of yours—but I can't even have that. I love you so much it hurts.

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Mika tries her best to understand me; I pity the girl, really. I don't deserve the love she lays out for me so willingly. I don't go home on purpose; lie to her; say I have mountains of work to finish that I completed hours ago.

Then I just look at the quiet moon and wonder if you're looking at it too; or I walk up to the skyscraper of NG, go to stand on the railing and listen to the wind as it whips through my loose clothing and my ears, as my tie twirls around in the moonlight like a ballerina, and as I hope to god I loose my balance and fall into the perpetual street lights. I want to cry but the tears won't come no matter how hard I try; my muscles are numbed from the scars gathering up your pieces has made on me.

It pains me even more to see that brainless idiot is able to help you, to fill you in where I couldn't, and I know you're slowly getting better being with him; some thing I was never able to achieve. He's letting your true colors show and, in vain, I almost wish I was color blind. The only thing I couldn't do in my life, ironically, was to be loved back by the person I love the most. I should be happy that you're getting better, but you're pushing me into my grave as you do so; my fingers ache so from digging myself up.

I've tried forgetting about you, tried moving onto more people and seeing new things—but everything I do relates back to you. I see you in my dreams, suffering, crying out for my help, and what can I do but offer it all to you? I'm the one that ruined you in the first place, so _why_ is it if I do so much as give you a band aid to let the blood of your cuts crease, you never, not once, not ever in a million years, treat me kindly for it; not even just a little?

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And I know by now I've lost to you, Shuichi, congratulations; Eiri's yours now. You did a fraction of the work I did to get close to him, and yet he's completely yours. He smiles at you now; doesn't glare as much—he still has that calm mental perplexity that I love so. The cruelty is fading and now he's just sarcastic at times, quiet, still distant...; still so quick, eyes sharp as a tack; ever so fragile at the same time.

God, I want to be able to kiss those pale lips like the old days, to run my fingers over that white skin; it reminds me so much of the moon I watch in the aftermath of my work; the moon that even if I stretched my arm as far as it could extend I'd never, ever be able to reach. I wish so much I had a time machine, and that I could go back and fucking _murder_ Kitizawa before he ever had a chance to touch you. I would give both my hands up that power; the hands I use for synthesizer playing, and piano playing-my music, _my passion_, my meaning in life-just so I could get closer to you.

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And to think I'm having such horrible thoughts as I simply sit here, in your apartment, hardly watching as you shuffle around the kitchen in search of tea.

"Seguichi?" Eiri calls, frowning slightly at me. "Do you want sugar with or without your tea?" Guess you found the tea.

I smile at you, thoughts unseen and unspoken, "With." You think nothing of it and make your way back through the cabinets; I gaze at the way your body curves just ever so faintly when you walk. You don't seem to notice my staring as you pour some steaming water into a cup and add sugar. As expected, you ask; "Why are you here?"

"Is it wrong that I want to stop by and see my favorite brother in law?" I perk up, watching your beautiful hands slip gracefully around the cup of tea as you make your way back towards me.

"Hmph, better not say that to Tatsuha." You grunt, pushing the mug into my hands. I take it, putting it down soon after; I'm not really that thirsty.

Crap, your gaze is making me tense and I can see the liquid in the mug tremble as I place it down. Great. I'm nervous and it's _actually_ showing. "Are you okay? Your hands are shaking." Eiri points out, seeming a little concerned. I keep my smile up, nodding; it's probably because this is... the last time I'm ever going to see him again.

"I think I feel a little sick," I say, quick to come up with an excuse. You don't seem convinced as you focus your gaze on me, and I feel even more insecure by it.

"Do you want some medicine?"

"Ah, no, no," I shake my head, opening my eyes a bit more and finally loosing myself in the features of your face, leaving me stunned and breathless. I… I think I'm going to die right now if I'm not careful. "I-I'll be fine," I stutter, cursing myself after; stupid fucking nervousness is screwing up my voice.

"Are you really sure?"

"Yes, yes." I say again, waving my hand. "No need to be concerned about me."

You shift uncomfortably at that, defending, "I'm not concerned. If you had a bloody seizure in my apartment Mika would slaughter me."

"Ah…" My spirits are a little more damped from that; this is the last time I'm going to speak to you, Eiri-san, and I would just wish you could be polite to me this one day. Just this once. I move my hand towards the tea you concurred up for me and bring it to my mouth and taste it-pretty good, as usual.

"You didn't answer my question… before…" You say again, eyes flickering like candlelight in wonder. "Why did you stop by?"

"I did answer. I just wanted to see how you're doing, is all." You glare a bit at me, lean back into the couch and prop your leg up onto your other leg, tilting your head back, running a hand through your smooth blonde hair and sighing.

"When are you and my sister going to believe I can take care of myself, hm?"

"I just wanted to check up on you…"

"It's annoying," you mutter.

"I see…" Sadness creeps into my voice with that reply, and I stare down into my cup of tea to look into my horrible reflection. This is the face of the man who couldn't help Eiri-san…

"Tohma?" I stiffen as you get up, walk to me, and cup my face in your warm hands, kneeling on the floor before me, forcing my gaze to your eyes. My lip trembles in surprise, and I have the horrible urge to lunge myself at you and kiss you. I can't bring myself to pull away from your touch, and I can barley make myself whisper in a pathetic plea of a response,

"Yes?"

"Seriously, what's wrong with you today?" Your eyes thin-out in thought. "Did some thing happen with Mika?"

My eyes start to water; I do my best to contain myself from screaming everything to you-my love, my agony, my sorrow. My god no, _nothing_ with Mika has happened.

"Tohma…?" I shake as you murmur my name. This is horrible, and I can't take it anymore. I push you away gently with my one hand and stand up, putting the cup of tea down on the side table.

"I-I'm fine." I stutter, shaking all over now, covering my face with my hands. "I-I'm okay…"

"No, you're not." You lean up again, this time pulling me into your embrace; only causing me to shake harder in your arms. I'm so nervous by now I just want to throw up; but at the same time I want to stay in this position forever. Had this occurrence happened months back, before Shuichi, you would have never lifted a finger to comfort me. "You're shaking so hard."

I whimper, contemplating what to do. Shove you away or hug you back? My instincts are screaming at me… I. want. To. Touch. You. So. Badly. Stop hugging me, Eiri! I'm going to loose it soon! You just pull me closer, running the tips up your fingers up and down my spine.

I suppose it'd be nice to just hug you once before I went away.. I finally reach up to wrap my arms around your shoulders, and you flinch in surprise at my movement, but settle back once the feeling of us holding each other sinks in. I want to stay like this forever; us holding onto each other, where we can both be safe for eternity. It's not going to last though, and I know it won't… The gun in my car won't shoot itself... And won't my death bring you happiness, Eiri? You've wanted for me to go away for so long… I'm finally…

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I'm finally going away…

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"I better leave. If Shuichi came home and saw us like this, what would he think?" My grin cracks at the words.

You smirk, but then your face falls again. "Alright. Take care." You turn around to go back to the kitchen; going to start dinner for Shuichi, I suppose.

"Eiri…?" I hear myself calling. You turn around.

"Yes?"

"I… I…" I'm about to tell you why I'm really here, about to ask you to save me, about to say there's a loaded gun in my car and I'm going drive far, far away and take my own life with my bare hands; the tainted hands I couldn't fix you with, the hands I couldn't defend you with. I'm about to tell you exactly how much you mean to me, and that I'd rather commit suicide then to see you push me away, mock me, and ignore me while you give so much affection to Shuichi. I'm about to tell you that my marriage with Mika was only done so I could get closer to you. I'm about to pounce on you and kiss those perfect soft pink lips until we both are blue from lack of air… but… but….

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" You ask, surprised yet again.

"I'm just… sorry, Eiri."

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**END**

Hope you enjoyed it. Yup, lots of symbolism. Symbolism is win. I'm thinking of adding a chapter of Eiri's reaction to Tohma's death. Yes, Tohma is does die. Please review. :3


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